


Because We Really, Really Wanted Him

by cait_stewart



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Belly Kink, Birth, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, He Didn't Know He Was Pregnant, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mpreg, True Love, belly inflation, until he did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 02:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19522918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart
Summary: Aziraphale is getting rounder.





	Because We Really, Really Wanted Him

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Потому что мы очень, очень хотели его](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20310349) by [LollyBomb95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollyBomb95/pseuds/LollyBomb95)



Azipharale hadn’t had a flat stomach almost as long as he hadn’t had a flaming sword. It was not his fault if human food was so… delectable, after all, and he reckoned that his usual slight pauch suited him.

_This, though,_ he thought, running his hands over a belly that looked like it could house a large melon, _is starting to get ridiculous._

“It’s all your fault,” he said to Crowley, who was lounging naked in bed, his stomach so thin it was basically concave. “All those… all those _romantic dinners_ you keep taking me on.” 

“The nerve of you complaining,” said Crowley, spreading his legs to let the cool evening breeze soothe his recently well-fucked arsehole. “Besides, it’s just a belly. It looks nice on you. ” 

“Easy for you to talk, _your_ clothes still fit.” 

“Miracle them larger, then, what’s the problem?” 

Aziraphale sighed. 

“It’s _the principle_ of the thing,” he said. “I’ll always know I’ve had to…” 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Give it here, angel. I’ll fix it for you.” 

§ 

The change was very gradual, so much that it took Aziraphale a few weeks to notice. 

“I don’t think so, no,” said Crowley, on the defensive. “It’s the same as it’s always been.” 

“Your shirt must have shrunk in the wash, then,” said Aziraphale, skeptical. There was a rather pronounced swell to Crowley’s stomach, especially compared to how thin he was just a couple of months before. Granted, it was nowhere as large as Aziraphale’s - steadily expanding - own. 

“Shut up,” growled Crowley, but later that evening Aziraphale caught him discreetly miracling his shirt to fit his new form. 

§ 

Azipharale was ridiculously fat, his stomach an almost perfect sphere in his lap as he sat at the kitchen table and balanced the shop’s books. 

“Oh dear,” he sighed, rubbing his swollen middle when a particularly vicious cramp hit. He had been in pain on and off for most of the day, his gut uncomfortable and heavy - he was reminded of descriptions he’d read of people in the very early stages of curing a bad constipation problem. Except, of course, nothing of _that_ sort could happen to an angel, even one as fond of earthly food as he is. “Oh, poor me.” 

“You all right?” inquired Crowley, scouring the fridge for a jar of the pickles he’d become so fond of recently. “You sound miserable.” 

“Quite all right,” lied Aziraphale, through gritted teeth. Over the last few months, Crowley had also become very fat - well, not fat, exactly, mostly just ludicrously large in the belly. 

Aziraphale strongly, _strongly_ approved of this development. 

“We’re out of pickles,” complained Crowley, emerging from behind the fridge door. His gut was smaller than Aziraphale’s, but on the demon’s wiry frame the whole thing looked frankly preposterous. He was supporting it with one hand. Azipharale stared, his cock stirring to life. 

Crowley smirked. 

“Again?” he asked, in ridiculous tones of fake innoncence. Despite the trouble that Azipharale’s stomach was giving him, they’d already fucked three times that day. If it were up to Aziraphale, they’d fuck three more times before the day was over. “Well, I reckon I should get a commendation for lust, at the very minimun.” 

§ 

Aziraphale lay naked in bed, his spent cock completely obscured by his enormous stomach, his legs splayed. His arse, despite the fact that Crowley was the one that had just got fucked, felt funny. Looser, somehow. The pressure inside his cramping gut was starting to become unbearable. 

“Are you ok?” inquired Crowley, also naked, following his swollen belly back into their bedroom. He looked slightly concerned. “You don’t _look_ ok, angel.” 

“My belly hurts,” admitted Aziraphale, his hand pressed to the underside of the bloated mound. “I think I have, er, gas.” 

“Gas?” repeated Crowley, baffled. “Do angels even _get_ gas?” 

“Evidently,” said Aziraphale, with as much dignity as he could muster. Even as they spoke, great bubbles moved aimlessly under the drum-tight surface of his skin. It was a very peculiar feeling. 

Crowley, with some difficulty, joined him on the bed. 

“Mind if I touch it?” 

“No, of course,” said Aziraphale, softly. Crowley’s hand felt lovely on his poor aching middle. 

“This thing is really packed,” said Crowley, carefully palpating Aziraphale’s distended gut. “Surely it can’t be just _air_ ,” he added, frowning at his own similarly enlarged stomach. 

“What else, then?” groaned Aziraphale, as a new, stronger wave of pain washed over him. He was starting to feel an almost irresistible urge to push, almost as if he needed to rid himself of something. The pain subsided after a minute, the muscles in his abdomen relaxing slightly. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Crowley. He was starting to look worried. Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to get better for the sake of his love. A particularly vicious pain gripped him, and there was a sudden shift of pressure inside his stomach. 

“Oh,” he commented, surprised, as for the first time in six thousand years something - a large amount of a clear fluid, Crowley’s subsequent inspection revealed - came out of his unusually slack arsehole and soaked their mattress. “What the fuck was… OUCH!” 

The pressure in Aziraphale’s arse was becoming impossible to bear, and he gripped the sheets and arched his back in a vain effort to push out the object that he could feel lodged inside his rectum. Crowley looked bewildered and terrified. 

“What’s happening, angel?” 

“I… need… to push…” explained Aziraphale, through gritted teeth. The object stuck inside of his arse - a cantaloupe, he suspected - wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard he strained. His belly kept contracting. His cock was rock hard from the unbelievable amount of pressure on his prostate. “Something… stuck…” 

“Stuck inside of you?” asked Crowley, in a small voice. 

Aziraphale nodded, eyes closed as he tried to enjoy a brief moment of respite. 

“Check my arse, please,” he said, resting his hands over the slightly deflated swell of his stomach. “I think there’s something… UUUUNGH!” he cried out, gripping the back of his knees to push with all his might. The object inside of him, it seemed, was finally making progress. 

“It’s… it’s looser than it usually is,” reported Crowley, who looked very pale and very scared. “The hole itself sort of _gapes_ a little, and there’s a slight bulge… oh, fuck, fuck, it’s getting wider, fuck, there’s something coming out… fuck… wait, is that…” 

“What?” groaned Aziraphale, holding onto the bottom of his gut. “What is it?” 

Crowley, astonished, didn’t answer Aziraphale’s question. 

“Crowley!” repeated Aziraphale, now fully convinced that he was passing a watermelon through his impossibly dilated arsehole. “What’s happening to me? What were you going to say?” 

“Hair,” said Crowley, looking up from Aziraphale’s arse and into his eyes. “ _Red_ hair. Full head, looks like.” 

“What do you mean ‘full head’... _oh_ ,” said Aziraphale, suddenly putting two and two together. _A baby!_ “But how could it possibly… OOOH, goodness, it burns!” 

“It’s almost out,” promised Crowley, manouvering around his huge ( _pregnant?_ , Aziraphale wondered fleetingly) stomach to kneel between Aziraphale’s legs and catch their baby as it slipped out of his lover. “The head is coming out, oh, angel, I can’t believe this is really happening, this is…” 

“AAAAAAAAAH,” screamed Aziraphale, his arse stretching to impossible proportions as the baby’s head finally crowned. 

“Just one more push,” pleaded Crowley. “One more push and you’re done.” 

Aziraphale pushed as hard as he could, and out slipped the baby, triggering an orgasm of phantasmagorical proportion as soon as its body cleared the angel’s prostate. 

“What…?” he murmured, almost cathatonic with the combination of exhaustion and sheer bliss he’d just experienced. The baby started crying. 

“A baby boy, angel,” replied Crowley, as proud and as thrilled as Aziraphale had ever seen him. “A baby boy of our own!” 

“A baby boy,” repeated Aziraphale, his heart nearly enough bursting with joy as Crowley carefully handed him their plump little son. Crowley had been right, the child had his red hair. “But how…?” 

Crowley smiled. 

“Well, I guess it happened because we just really, really wanted him…” he said, his hand cupping his own suspiciously swollen stomach. “Does that seem likely to you, angel?” 

“Very,” agreed Aziraphale, happier than he had ever been. “Very likely, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is actually having twins I suspect.


End file.
